


snow cone

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Pre-Despair, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, mentions of sex & nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 13:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11533641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: maizono takes naegi to a party.





	snow cone

**Author's Note:**

> i dreamt i kissed maizono at a party. and hagakure gave me a shrimp.

he doesn't go to parties.

he gets invited,  _sometimes,_ but there is just a certain inescapable appeal to a solo night of playstation and capri sun that draws him to turn them down. an introvert, he's been called, shy and reserved for life's most part. a wallflower, he'd call himself, because people like flowers once they're close enough to admire. still fun to be around, still able to maintain intimacy with a select few.

"you're such a recluse!" maizono calls him, yanking the curtains apart in his bedroom. she tuts next with hands falling to hips, as she'd been expectant to the theatrical rays of sunlight flooding the room, realizes too suddenly to save her dignity that it's an hour past sunset. but she needn't worry for her own reputation, more so for the one turning and grumbling in the sheets behind her at the new shock of her voice- the one already in bed at nine thirty pm on a summer sunday, who's room she had to be let into by his mommy after seven unanswered texts.

"mh...maizono?" his arm lifts from its shield across his blinks, sleeved in his navy green zip up, because he's a simple man with simple pleasures. those eyes aim up toward her, mouth taut to displeasure. "what d'you want..?"

she faces him with arms akimbo still. a huff knits her mouth into closure's pout. "that's not how you talk to someone who's about to take you to a party, naegi!"

"party?" blankets shuffle to his waist in a straight sit upwards. his bedhead is  _ha!'_ d at behind fingertips before she nods solidly once, sits herself on his mattress' edge and casts color from collar to mussed hairline. to either side of her a fist goes in rigor, stars gleaming in the sharp blue of her eyes.

"kuwata's throwing a last minute end of summer thing. he invited you, didn't he?"

it prompts a blink and a switch and a grasp of his phone from the sidetable;  _last minute_ means evidently,  _yo mass txt lol, parents r gone party at my place?!!????!_ and his expression just  _has_ to pinch at the time stamp of half an hour ago. he swipes away a mess of messages from the one with her skirt flouncing in a jump to coax him out of warmth.

" _maizonooo,"_ he grouses as his forearms are tugged to her, legs dragged bare from beneath the duvet and again breaking her into a giggle and he into a short indignation.

"come on, it'll be fun! everyone's gonna be there." she shoves him with palms to his back toward the sliding door to his closet. "and, besides, you already ditched out on enoshima and ikusaba's sweet sixteen,  _and_ oowada's pool party cause you were 'on your per-"

"alright!" is his interjection in another flash of warmth to his face, pulling dark jeans over the boxers he'd claimed for sleep. "...so, i don't go to a lot of stuff. i just like to spend time by myself sometimes."

" _sometimes,"_ rolls from her tongue as her eyes follow suit. her mary-janes pad into the hall on his trail into the small bathroom beside his door. "naegi,  _everybody_  in our class likes you, and you only ever hang out with me or kirigiri. you're too shy! you need to break out of your shell more."

when he answers, it is aside the muffle of brushing mint down his molars. "ehh... _maybe.._."

he meets her outside the door after a spit and a rinse, and she grins more starlight at him and links their elbows. there's no room for his denial to the quake in his lips' muscles.

on their way through the front he bids his parents the destination of a  _get-together_ , doesn't get further to his mechanic promises of good behavior and all else before messy brunette bobs up from a slumped pose over an arm chair, and her eyes are dazzling aside the inquiring, "ooo, a party?"

" _get-together,"_ naegi demands to his nosy, nosy little sibling, though can never say he's attended a  _get-together_ with as much booze sex and screaming as one of kuwata leon's raves. he shakes his head, cocks his chin sideways. "for high schoolers."

her pout carries her back to that indolent ragdoll, bored by the drag of summertime. his attention goes again to his mother, who looks on him with geniality and says only "no later than one:thirty."

he would've been just fine with  _no later than ten:thirty,_ but he supposes asking for an earlier curfew in front of a pretty girl isn't something a cool guy who goes to parties does, so he nods and follows the tug on his arm as if it were a master's grasp to his leather leash. she tosses a sweet parting call over a shoulder to one exchanged her way, and then their feet are to the pavement outside and it's a lot hotter than naegi had anticipated. the jaunt to kuwata's house down fifteen blocks begins with a shove of sleeves to elbows.

maizono says nothing as she walks at his side. streetlights glint off the shine of her airy lipgloss simper. he's a sweat beneath the arms to keep up with her, attributes her easy briskness to the constant exertion of training, and sweats more in the heat of realization that a pop idol is walking close enough to him that their knuckles brush every few steps. but...maizono is just maizono, and they've been best friends long enough for him not to be gaga over her every breath.

his chest bates still to the next touch of flesh.

" _pff,"_ maizono near jeers at their approach to the front lawn in twenty minutes forward. bass vibrates already below their feet. "i'll be really surprised if the cops don't show up to this one."

naegi has to agree, though his guts churn in the turmoil of the idea. the front door opens with a creak by the push of her finely manicured hand. instantly, it's grasped by one gruffer, and she's tugged inward in a squeaked chime in having not expected the sharp dip of herself in this captor's arms.

"evening, dollface," he says to her, and she calms in the recognition, the palm she presses to push away his grinning mug.

"don't you have a skirt to look up somewhere, kuwata?" she mocks in her release, smoothing her own down her thighs. he laughs against gleaming teeth, and naegi doesn't need to spot the solo cup in his hand to know he's on his way to wasted already.

"not 'til eleven." that same cup gestures in a vague direction behind himself, and he tells them, "liquor's in the kitchen. kanon scored me an assload."

naegi doesn't know who the girl he's alluded to is or how to measure a metric assload, but all he needs to be sure of is that maizono's trailing toward the promise of alcohol and he'd be a fool not to shadow.

where the foyer had been desolate, the halls bring forth more partygoers who apparently were not put off by the short notice invitation. maizono earns a river of greetings on her way through the throngs of teens and headbanging music, and naegi accepts the several slaps to his shoulder in greeting with gracious waves. kuwata's home is vast and rich, built on the foundation of a dozen baseball scholarships, the kitchen no exception in its open cavern of granite.

cans of corona line the center island, more metal tabs visible than countertop. maizono gravitates toward the array of bottles over the surface of the stove and more counters surrounding. he takes the cup offered to him, the slightest touch uneasy at the notion of stumbling home trashed (because the first time had just been  _so_ delightful- his bathroom's porcelain still reeks latent of vomit) but hasn't time to argue before there's a stream of some fizzy red soda halfway up his cup chased by more than just a sip of vodka. maizono would make a good bartender, he thinks, the pretty ones always reel in the most tips. the drink tastes like pure cough syrup. he'd leave her a twenty.

parties, ragers,  _get-togethers-_ naegi's rarely an answer as to their appeal. he spends them for the majority following whoever he'd been brought by, and there lies that same owner/puppydog analogy as before. maizono guides him through the endless people clinging to each room's center. it's tangled and disordered, feels himself a carp in the sahara's sands, further a loss for orientation by the bump into his back. cherry mountain vodka spills a mouthful onto the hardwood at his sneakers.

he spins to face the perpetrator, though is met only with his face to the press of fabric. a voice guffaws over the dull chord of drumbeats. naegi attempts a step backward, one half taken that crushes him up against more strangers and  _why's everyone so fucking tall?!_ and the one who'd first knocked him turns around with just the  _widest_  grin, though it drops its slight chortles at the glance down toward him. eyes stare at him in a scarlet-rimmed haze, and the smile returns like a shit-eating boomerang.

"naegichi!" and had the greeter any free hands, naegi bets he'd have a broad one rested to his shoulder now. but he flinches regardless when one does make toward him, after a soft  _hey, hagakure-_ and the next thing he knows his palm is... _wet_ and he's been handed, "uh...shrimp?"

hagakure is a juggling act as a person; his fingers delve back into the depthless pockets of a coat to retrieve another, laughs slight at himself while a firefly glimmers at the end of a smoke in his second hand, glowing bright against the room's near pitch black. "ain't a party without shrimp, dude. whoa-!"

in a puzzle of mind's pieces, ones that do not lock pristine, naegi watches his next swivel of waist, an unwarranted exchange with a shaggy teen sliding by him. when he turns back, he's shrimpless, palm filled instead by a blue plastic cup. a clear liquid drips down the sides, one naegi would bet a lifetime's inheritance isn't water, and he tosses his mane back into a long sip that comes back with a shake of head and a victor's battle cry. those eyes find the slip of movement in a far peripheral again, leads to another holler over the sea of heads mingling about. "here, naegs, hold this," he says, and hands him the smoldering joint before taking off in pursuit of his next trading partner while fishing through the fish in his pocket.

naegi is surprised at how normal a hagakure-spotting this one was, though is more so wrapped within the new gift betwixt his fingers. there's no harm in a hit, he supposes, recalls the last time he'd gotten stoned at a  _get-together_  had ended with a hand in his pants and a hickey on his neck, and he thinks himself positively  _suave_ when he's toked a few (even if he's half certain the guy he'd bedded had thought he was a girl, but-) but he draws a long inhale of the joint, and it's bliss until he turns back to his original path. he realizes in a loud cough of smoke that his leash has no longer a tug, hazel eyes frenetic in their ping pong about the area in search of her.

"can't take the grass, little man?" and naegi has to wonder if he's smoked enough to transport him back to the time when people still called pot  _grass,_ but glances to his right regardless to spot the host grinning at him with an arm slung across his shoulders. kuwata steals the roach. it blinks fiery orange in the dark as it's puffed from. he doesn't seem to care much that he's sloshed an ounce of his drink to his guest's shirt in his quick fling of himself away, calling a foxy whistle behind the name of a female upperclassman as he disappears through the crowd. naegi sighs.

it's eleven:forty-two by the time he finds maizono again, because stepping into high school parties punches the clock's glass and spins the pointers by hand, and he thinks himself an absolute idiot for never making to check the kitchen, but she's there seated at the island with the same girl he swore kuwata had been chasing after before.

and before he's the chance to say it himself- "oh, there you are, naegi!"

he blinks, and she's got her head cocked toward him paired with the smirk to those pink lips. "smells like you've been having a good time."

"uh-" coughs he into a fist. it's brighter in the kitchen, blindingly so when compared to the house's rest. every bit of his tender skinned blush is visible, the curves to him neath the open front zipper and black tee lower still. he covers his face with a tip of his empty cup. the friend here pops her mouth in glee.

"makoto!" she cries with all the zest conjurable. her breath reeks of beer, drool shining on the metal studs lining her bottom lip. "duper good to see ya! ibuki didn't take  _you_ for the party type."

"he isn't," giggles maizono in a way that's so catty yet lovable (because it's from  _her_ ) all the same. "i had to  _drag_  him out of bed to come here tonight!"

"ooo-hoo-hoo!" mioda chimes into the echo of her cup. "sayaka and makoto in bed together?! the student council ladies will lose their skirts over this!"

"no, no!" he's  _quick_ to insist, drowned by her further train of chatting that leads to this leads to that, and soon enough she's palavering on about sour candy and naegi's only half listening once he's nudged in the bicep by one much more forceful.

lowtide and cannabis. "yo, naegichi," hagakure says dreamy upon his return to him. "where'd the blunt run off to?"

"oh, um," he stumbles, "ku-kuwata. he, uh, took it. sorry."

nothing crosses past the loose contentment over his face. "welp," and he snickers, "that's long gone for sure then. good thing papa bear's gotta whole bag!"

"yeah, uh-" his vision casts across the counter island to empty stools, his final glimpse of them a wrist being tugged out toward the hall's darkness from the wall's second open archway, a flick of synthetic blue hair and bubbly giggles behind. his brows arch. "maiz-!"

"wait up, naegichi!" stops his attempt at fleeing. frantic reluctance. he turns a head over a shoulder to face the other. hagakure seals the side of a new joint with a short lick, then hands it over with a flick to a lighter on its end. naegi doesn't  _want_ to but...but it's right there, so, he might as well, really, and-

"how much money you got on you?"

he blinks, pulls the smoke away from his lips that gape into a long vowel in thought.

by the time he finds maizono again, he has a full cup of sprite and smirnoff and a thirty percent accurate understanding of his future.

"oh, hey!" the bass thumps overhead. she's lost her guest in the mess of dancing, drinking, sweating. the den they reside in is relatively mild, though loud as all hell and half packed with lingering bodies. maizono's squeezed herself up against the arm of a long white sofa he guesses will be gray by the end of the night. three others line the cushions; a boy splitting his time between chugging a beer and toking a blunt; a pair in an intense match of tonsil hockey. naegi draws his uncomfortable gaze back to the wide lakes peering up toward him.

a techno beat takes over for the faded out metal song. several cheers ring from a room far off. "uh- hey." someone earns raucous hoots and hollers for sliding down the stair railing, hollers a pained note himself when his crotch collides with the baluster at the end. naegi shakes his head, yet finds only more distraction in a voice ringing out over the chaos.

"hey, whoever fucked in my parents' bedroom- that ain't cool, bro!" kuwata blares, waving the contraband of a frilly pink bra. off his side, mioda sways idly, cackling laughs at a conversation with someone passing her. she stumbles on a foot after letting go of the hold over his shoulders and hops off toward them on their leave, and she'd been as much of an anchor for him as he'd been her; against the couch's short back he staggers, lands upside down between maizono and the boy at her side, who yells a swear in protest to being shoved away from the gorgeous pop idol.

face to the ceiling, he laughs, brings his drink, which had miraculously remained upright in his tumble, up to sip at and loses its contents all over his pinching face. a moment of shock melts away to a wild shake of liquid flecks from his hair, raises both fists in a cheer that naegi suspects he'd expected to be chorused. regardless, he glances upward at him then, blinks away the liner dripping wet from his eyes, grins bright and lazy.

"yo yo yo, naegs," he says. "you seen maizono round here?"

"haven't seen her," she pipes up from his side. he swivels his swimming sight to her, barks that cacophony of his laugh.

"oh, nevermind naegi, i found 'er." his hand raises to fall on her shoulder. she grimaces. "maizy. baby. sweetheart. i need  _you_ ," he stops to point an index finger to her chest, as if he'd be aiming his speech toward any other, "to go into the basement."

her nose scrunches. she brushes his hand from her. "um...why?"

the dry cup tilts to his mouth again, shakes his head once and drops it to the floor. ever the gentleman he belches into his explanation, "need more cups."

arms fold into each other, huffing down at him. "you get them!"

"listen, you really think i can do those stairs?" he breaks off into another  _brap_ that revolts her enough to wish she  _were_ a level away from him. "they're in the, uh, the pantry thing. come on, don't be such a lazy ass."

"right,  _i'm_ the lazy ass," mutters her sarcasm upon her rise and smooth of skirt under her. she circles around the sofa to make toward the basement door. a shadow glides in an instant as to not lose her a third time, halted by a clamp to his arm.

"naegi, wait," and he's splashed in déjà vu. kuwata's headrushed himself into sitting up on the couch lip, dizzy in the face and more so steadying himself with the hand on his shoulder than anything else. a staid glow comes between their met eyes, one naegi finds himself recoiling from in meekness.

"maizono's been trying to get you alone all night," makes his blood freeze in each vein. "told mioda she has to ask you somethin' important."

his heart slams against his tongue's back. kuwata grins at him, a neutered cat thriving vicariously off the heat of another. he claps that hand to his back once, steals the cup from his grasp and raises a toast to him with a salacious wink. "go get 'em, tiger. basement's called fuck town for a reason."

heat lines his collar. it's a long breath, a rabbit's foot thumping in his chest, the most subtle step forward that cascades into a jog to fling the door open and descend the stairs.

fuck town is furnished to the nines. it's a basement naegi's always seen in those fancy house magazines, always wanted for his own but knew was a pipe dream. plush tan carpet melts underneath his tender steps. there's couches on either wall, a banister separating from floor to ceiling and feeling them two polar atmospheres. an entertainment center is pressed to another wall, a short plasma and killer gaming system frequented whenever he should visit this friend's home. but- but he doesn't care about the carpets or the couches or the xbox 420, sights set solely upon the far secluded corner, two doors adjacent to one another. one leads to a cramped bathroom, where within he hears the shower running and lots of shrill giggles, and the other a swing to the called  _pantry thing_ where he intends to enter.

a hesitance finds him. behind there-  _maizono,_ looking for him, asking for him, him,  _him!_ it's...more than amazing, it's, it's...he can't even  _think_ of a synonym great enough, with a mind running off vodka and a gram of weed and all the grandeur of his most vulgar, wettest dreams coming true.

and-  _god -_ does he want them to come true.

in one surge of valor, he shoves the entry cleared. and- "ouch!"

he blinks hard once, twice, thrice. the door swings a few notes, before being caught in one of those finely manicured while the other rubs at her forehead. naegi yelps.

"m-maizono, ah-! are you alright? i'm sorry, i-"

"it's fine," she interrupts, dropping the hand to her side. a bag of red solos hangs from her grip. she, too, blinks away the haze of having her head slammed into, while naegi stands gnawing his lip in mortified apology. managed from a sigh breaks a smile, and she shoves the cups roughly to his chest. "thanks for the concussion, though."

timid steps follow hers behind, his lips wavering in that same illness. "i'm sorry. it was an accident, i swear."

"i'm just teasing, naegi!" he can practically feel those eyes in their swivel. but it's goodnatured for as far as he can tell, so he relaxes, and they're walking from the corner of adjacent doors back to the open area of the two atmospheres; in one universe exists the allure of a topless woman in the lap of her suitor, where naegi forces his vision from to instead spy the galaxy nearest himself. maizono's stopped her trek, standing flat before the sofa beside them at the wave over from the one on it. it's five and a half feet of intimidation topped in bubblegum twintails he could have sworn was not there on his first walk in. naegi pauses out of terrified deference (his default state for encountering any girl, truly).

between two fingers, maizono lifts a cigarette to her mouth. a red lipstick mark stains the tip. lids close over eyes a long inhale, and she passes it back to the one who'd offered it, but is denied to her saucer-eyed wonder.

"keep it," enoshima says, uncrossing one tall leg from the other to place two stilettos to the carpet in a rise. fingers graze underneath naegi's jaw, burning as deep as her long carmine acrylics. "share it with your boy toy. i gotta go find mine."

maizono takes another long drag. "last i saw him, he was upside down on the couch in the living room."

enoshima flicks her hip in a turn around, coughs up a scoff before hopping the steps to knee open the top door. naegi ogles the lengths of her faultless bare legs to the final swing.

but- no,  _maizono._ she's placed herself on the cushion, and naegi would give anything to be that cigarette pressed to her lips.

"i, uh," he starts in a crouch to sit beside her. "i didn't know you smoke."

the answer is a loud hack of gray. her voice is sickly weak against "i don't" before offering it toward him. and he's not a frequent flyer here, either, but he takes it anyway, because he'd look like a fucking loser if he refused a smoke from a pop star. "i just didn't want to look like a fucking loser refusing a smoke from a supermodel, you know?"

then he coughs, too, thinks themselves a wickedly matched pair. he has to nod.

she laughs. "we don't have to stay much longer," she says, as though she's true to those mind reading powers she alludes to so often. "it's, like, quarter of one already anyway."

he shrugs tight against a loose confirming nod. he hopes she'll walk him home again. he hopes she'll be too tired to walk to her own and ask to spend the night. smoke billows from his excitement.

lack of reciprocation leads her further thievery of the conversation. a cord of blue goes dainty over a shoulder. "have you been having fun, at least? wasn't i right about tonight?"

a smile delights her. "yeah, you were right. i've been having a pretty good time." he flicks a bit of ash without thinking. "it's been kinda weird, though. kuwata said grass. and uh, hagakure gave me shrimp. and read my fortune. then charged me 4500 yen." the last is murmured in near bitterness. another flick.

maizono can't withhold her amusement, and delves into, "fortune, huh? what's in store for you?"

his lips purse. "well...i'm either gonna marry a pretty girl and make tons of money," he drags off a long moment, "or i'm going to die at nineteen."

she pulls a face that's still gorgeous despite the anguished disapproval. "you paid to hear that?" before he can answer, her head shakes in a tut. "i'll give you a  _real_ reading. and give you the friends and family discount."

he'd laugh if he had the time, but- but then she's stealing the cigarette and crushing it under her heel to free his hands for her grasp. her knees are tucked to a criss-cross now to face the couch's center. swallow. hard.

her eyes close, humming low in her throat in thought, thought, thought. naegi burns.

"you're going to live in osaka," she says after what feels an hour. she looks straight toward him. "and you're going to be married to togami, and have two kids and a cat."

all at once, the anxiety of their proximity blasts from him in a cackling laugh. his head tips back into it, then lands toward her again right. "togami byakuya? from our class? that guy hates my guts!"

"the spirits are never wrong, naegi," she informs him in salience, though she's smiling all the same.

they sit in quiet a while, just each other and the dull thud of music and feet above their heads, the couple on the opposite planet swapping spit like the world should soon end. the lighting's dim, feels himself sedated in the warm depths of a lava lamp with the way she's staring to him. he catches it from the peripheral, mouth glued to lingering smoke and brows lifted to peer back to her. she's almost... _vulnerable_ like this, he thinks, not in a way made for having advantage taken-  _never,_ but he's just so used to seeing her at her tip top best. prim and proper and poised. and of course, they're friends! best best friends and he's seen her sick and he's seen her sad, seen her seated next to him in her lacy pajamas and unmakeuped face watching teen dramas at three am. and he'd sweated then, during their sleepovers and hangouts and passing joints back and forth in her bedroom when her father's gone to work, and he's sweating now, because they're best friends and she wants to  _ask him something,_ and she's so gorgeous even after being crushed against the perspiration of two hundred drunk high schoolers leering at her all evening, hair frizzy in the summer heat and mascara smeared the smallest touch.

and she's perfect even when she's not, and naegi would give anything to love her as his own, really. but, uh, but- "um..." draws her eyes from absent scanning of him to meet his disaster zone of a nervous face. "kuwata said you-you wanted to talk to me?"

she seems to startle a moment, but two and two come together inside her mind and those pearly eyes relax a touch before going downcast. she nods, breathes a note. "oh, yeah, i did." she laughs, almost, a tiny smirk lingering. fingers move from holding his to fix the fallen strap to her bra down her bicep. "well...it's kind of,  _ah_ , embarrassing."

he nods, and his guts all flip like trapeze stars, and the lava lamp scorches every quirk of muscle he dares. feet legs waist, he's a shuffle to face her more, nods again because he's forgotten he already has. wets his lips, stares toward her. she mirrors his movements, scoots the most subtle fraction close. low lights dazzle her mouth into the hot whisper; "...i have a crush."

then it's the booze and the weed and the fire of her hands holding his, and all that she's spoken so sweet, so charming. he wishes he could say he does not know what's compelled him, but it's everything he's just thought, and it's  _her_ , her and her delicious words and the delusions he's had of her thighs spread and neck's pulse neath his kisses. and kisses- that's all he can think, all he can crave, all he's capable of in the hot hot hot moment that trails the everything, and he's got his lips pressed to hers with all the fervor to burn up curtains and she tastes like cough syrup and sweet sweet freedom.

when they've sundered, it is all naegi can do not to go in for another. she's delectable. he licks across his bottom lip, watches her breathe in out out in.

"i have a crush on kirigiri," comes afterward, pins his skull to the wall in a shattering crucifixion. "and i...i was going to ask if you could, um, help me talk to her more..."

and all he can manage- "...oh. sure."

the reverie around him has its cover bashed in. his hands are dropped slow to his lap, gaze trained the same and blush as hot as its been all night, all his life.

he's home half hour before curfew and spends the extra time staring into a porcelain bowl of undigested soda and liquor and shame.

he doesn't go to parties.


End file.
